When It All Goes Down The Drain
by Lea Ootori
Summary: *Omegaverse* *USUK* *A little bit of FrCan* For years, America has kept his being an omega a secret- but when untimely events transpire and reveal his secret to everyone, how will the other countries react? Will England find out that America has a crush on him? Oh, and will getting drunk hurt the situation? (Probably not, right?) Jealousy, blushing, shipping, and flirting galore!
1. Where It All Began

**Hi everyone~~**

 **I'm LeaOotori, and you guys can probably tell from my username that I started in the Ouran fandom and who my favorite host is. :) Recently, however, I heard about Hetalia and watched a ton of it and got pretty much obsessed with UKUS! (or USUK, either way).**

 **I love their dynamic and I ship it a lot! For more variety in my fics, I decided it'd be cool if I tried out the Omegaverse AU and that my first Hetalia fic could be one. So here's my first attempt at Alpha-Omega, my first shot at a UKUS fic, and also my first Hetalia fic.**

 **Wow, that's a lot of firsts!**

 **By the way, this fic includes UKE America and SEME England, and human names are used! I hope that doesn't bother you!**

 **If you don't know what an Alpha-Omega AU, there's an explanation below. If you already know what it is, please skip and start reading!**

 **Thanks so much!**

 **~Lea**

 **WARNING: IMPLIED TALKING ABOUT SEX, GAY PEOPLE, AND SOME SMEXY DESCRIPTIONS (NO SEX THO)- PLEASE DON'T READ IF YOU ARE BOTHERING BY THAT KIND OF THING! :)**

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 **An Omegaverse AU consists of THREE different kinds of people: Alphas, Betas, and Omegas. By nature, each of these types of people has a certain role in reproduction/in society, but in the modern world, these genetic modifications are just an inconvenience to these people. Alphas are the dominant ones, Betas are like us normal humans (lol), and Omegas are the submissives. For more information, please look it up. :)**

 ******In a world where people get butthurt very often, I'd like to say before anyone writes a rude comment that this AU is for fun! Don't flame people who write this AU, I've seen a lot of hate for it! So please keep in mind this is for fun and don't get offended! Thanks!**

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The worst feeling in the world has to be when you've worked your butt off for something but it goes straight down the drain. It's frustrating, annoying, and plainly put- probably the shittiest feeling on Earth.

It's even worse when everything was ruined because you made one _teensy tiny little_ mistake: one that you want to turn back time to change. That one _teensy tiny little_ mistake just destroys everything that you had worked so hard for. It's absolutely infuriating.

Alfred Jones, America himself, was no stranger to mistakes that changed the course of history, but this one, in particular, hadn't ruined a country- it had ruined his _life._

 _ **~When It All Goes Down the Drain~**_

It had been a December day in the brisk country of China when Alfred got off of the plane, cheeks ruddy and smile wider than the horizon itself. Matthew sidled up beside him as they got off onto the landing pad, eyes flickering about the stark gray landscape with muted interest.

"It's cold!" America yelled, voice echoing loudly in the absence of anything but large white buildings. He was dressed as usual, though many layers had been added to his normal attire.

"Eh," The Canadian shrugged, looking about as a set of escorts enveloped the brother countries and led them towards the airport. "Canada is colder." A plane flying overhead overlapped Matthew's quiet voice, leading to Alfred yelling the likes of 'I CAN'T HEAR YOU!' and 'SPEAK LOUDER!' at the absolute top of his lungs, scaring all the people in a near perimeter.

After finally getting giddy and excited Alfred quiet, the brothers managed to enter the airport with less of a spectacle than what was usual, to shy Matthew's relief. "Look! Food!" Alfred squealed, not even resting for a moment before finding a new distraction. He started towards the said food, grabbing Matthew's wrist and trying to drag him towards a Chinese man selling a packaged snack.

"Al!" Matthew was exasperated after dealing with the noisy America for hours in a plane, where he'd be nearly bouncing off the walls, and now, he was cursed to handle him in an open space full of staring, annoyed people. "Al!"

Alfred could barely hear him, instead dropping the Canadian's hand and rushing off to buy snacks. Matthew could do nothing but facepalm and go after him, calling his name all the while. "Al!" Matthew yelled again (well, to him, it was yelling… to others, it was more like a talking voice, of course), already out of breath as he caught up to his brother. "We're gonna be late!"

"Such a worrywart, Mattie!" America laughed with his mouth full. "You only live once! Live it up while you can, bro!" Before the American could fill poor Canada's head with a variety of other phrases that promoted doing possibly stupid things, there came a blessed interruption in the form of a country.

"You seem to be enjoying yourselves a bit too much, I would say." The nearly identical north-American pair looked up simultaneously to be met by the emerald green stare of none other than England himself, accompanied by France, who was busy inspecting his appearance with a pocket mirror.

"The altitude does a number on _mes pauvres et beaux cheveux_ ," Francis cooed at his reflection in what looked like pity. " _Pauvre de moi!_ "

"Oh, shut up," The Englishman remarked in turn, only a second away from rolling his eyes.

"Make _moi,_ " The Frenchman replied flirtatiously, and Arthur could practically see the lust dripping from his eyes.

"In your dreams, you stupid frog!" Arthur snapped, distancing himself slightly from the fashionable blonde, taking care not to step too close to Albert either.

While the two Europeans had been bickering, Alfred had been turning various shades of red and purple and pink while Matthew had been trying his best to calm the American down. Why? Well, the answer to that question was obvious to everyone but the people it concerned. Simply put, Alfred Jones had the biggest crush in history.

On Arthur.

The first thing that Matthew had thought when Alfred had confessed (not of his free will, of course) was, 'Out of all the countries he could have a crush on, he chose England?'. It was quite the valid question: America and England, while being allies, never stopped bickering about tea and coffee and how to spell 'color' and such- not to mention the fact that Alfred and Arthur were both the most oblivious and tsundere people that Matthew had ever met. It didn't help matters that England was probably the least romantic country ever, while America was no short of a stuttering, blubbering mess around someone that he liked the _teensiest_ bit.

So seeing that Matthew was almost one-hundred percent sure that Alfred was head-over-heels _in love_ with the Englishman, the Canadian was left with a lot of covering-up to due to protect his brother's super-sized hero complex. "I- I need to go to the bathroom!" Matthew exclaimed, starting to sweat under pressure.

"Would you like me to come with you, _ma douce_?" Francis practically purred, eyes travelling up the Canadian's skinny jeans with a questionable expression.

"No, no, I'm fine," Matthew _needed_ to get Alfred out of the room before he combusted. "Al will come with me, right Al?" The poor American was trying his best to open his mouth and say _Yes! Get me out of here!_ but Arthur's eyes surveyed him, pinning the hamburger-loving blonde effectively in place as he fought to swallow. "Come on then," Matthew laughed nervously. "We'll meet you two at the limo out front."

The British man looked annoyed. "We're already horribly late. Can you not wait?"

"No, I'm so sorry, Arthur! We'll be quick! I promise!" Matthew blurted the entire thing in one breath, grabbing his brother's hand as he took off running towards the restrooms, attracting the attention of confused and annoyed people all around them for the second time in that day as he shoved past luggage and animals and people alike, dragging America with him.

A minute later, he was leaning against the wall of the one-person bathroom, breathing like he'd run a marathon, while Alfred dunked his face in cold water.

"Al," Matthew sighed softly. "I thought you were over the freezing-up-and-stuttering phase."

Alfred gasped as the icy water stung his already-cold face. Wiping his face on his sleeve, he turned around, wearing a somber expression- one that wasn't common on the American. His blonde bangs stuck to his face as he wiping down his glasses, fiddling with them in his hands. "I thought I was too," he said, voice so low it was almost a whisper. Again, out of character, and scaring the Canadian thoroughly. "It's just… been so _long_ since I saw him, and I wasn't expecting him and… his eyes are just so… _green_."

Matthew just felt plain bad now. "I'm so sorry, Al," He moved to place a hand on his brother's shoulder. Albert sighed, before straightening up and smiling so widely that Matt couldn't help but wonder if it hurt.

"Nothing hurts the hero!" He declared, hands on his hips. "I'm one-hundred percent fine-"

There came a sudden slamming at the door, following with a loudly shouted request that seemed to be in Chinese. "We better go," Matthew realized. "I think we spent a while in here." America nodded with a grin, taking in a small breath as he pulled open the door to be met by a grumpy looking chinese man who glared as his eyes flickered from Alfred to Matthew, and then to the sign next to the door saying that the bathroom was for 'single persons' before shoving past both of them, mumbling curses under his breath.

With no further ado, Alfred and Matthew took off, reaching the front of the airport in record time. After slipping through the revolving doors, they located the limo with limited difficulty (after all, there was a sign with their names on it being held by the chauffeur as he stood in front of the vehicle) and clambered in, both puffing little mini clouds into the nippy air.

"How does it take so _bloody long_ to take a _shit_?" Arthur demanded, obviously ticked off.

"Oh, _mon amour,_ they are boys. Let them have their fun, _amoureux_." Francis's voice seemed like it was made of honey, convincing and manipulative as he sidled in next to Matthew, trying to inconspicuously slip his arm around the Canadian before he was batted away by the protective American beside him. The french blonde executed his practiced, flawless pout before dropping his rejected arm to his side.

Arthur gave Francis an expression of complete and utter disdain before crossing one leg over another and resorting to looking out the window boredly.

"Well, uh…" Alfred was at a loss for words, but he wanted to talk to Arthur. A lot. "I had the best burger the other day," he started cluelessly.

It was all Matthew could do not to drive his head into the wall. _How he can be so clueless?_

" _Mon amour,_ " Francis interjected smoothly. "Why don't _toi_ tell us about your last _femme_ instead of your last hamburger?"

Arthur's eyes drifted up at the Frenchman's words. "That's obviously your favorite subject," he remarked lazily, just wanting to say _something_.

" _Non,_ I love _les hommes_ too, _cher_ England." The blonde ran a hand through his long, golden locks as he licked his lips. "Antonio is _trés bien_."

"I do not need the details on your conquests, especially ones on Antonio." Arthur seemed reluctant to bring up the topic, despite his usual inclination to simply distance himself from a conversation he didn't like.

"Oh, _mais_ he's the most delightfully _adorable_ omega!" France cooed, fanning himself. "You should have seen him! _Trés_ cute!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I got another comic book last week-" Alfred started 'innocently', not wanting to participate in this certain conversation, but he was too easily ignored by the European pair as they bickered about whether Spain was cute or not.

"Say, maybe we should talk about something else?" Matthew suggested quietly.

His words caught Francis's attention, but he took no notice of them- just the speaker. " _Oui, Mathieu,_ " his lips quirked up into a evil smile. "Who's the last person who bedded you?"

Matthew, despite his quiet demeanor, was done for today. Completely and utterly done. After dealing with his hyper brother and then his love-struck brother, and now two snarky europeans during a restricted limo ride, he was about ready to yell. Softly. "Bedded _me_?" Matt retorted, eyes darting to the French Alpha's blue ones, watching as they reflected utter confusion.

"You're not an omega, _Mathieu_?" Francis was completely bewildered, eyebrows scrunched up as he shared a surprised look with Arthur.

"Are you sure, love?" Arthur asked, suddenly interested in the conversation.

"Of course I'm _sure_." Matthew spat, turning to his brother with an exasperated expression.

"He's a beta, you wanker." Arthur said to Francis. "It took you so long to notice."

"I beg your pardon?" The Canadian piped up, trying to ignore his building annoyance. "Who said I was a beta?"

Francis and Arthur turned to Matthew with identical open-mouthed expressions. "You're an Alpha?" Arthur gasped, eyes darting about Matthew as if simply _looking_ at the Canadian would tell him the words were a lie.

"Why does _nobody_ listen to me?" Matthew sighed. "This has to be the hundredth time I've said it."

"Did you know this, _Amérique_?" Francis exclaimed, holding a hand over his heart dramatically as if this made his entire life a lie.

Alfred shrugged. "Yeah, man."

"And you didn't tell _moi_?" Francis looked like he was about to have a seizure, buckling over as his eyes glazed over, probably contemplating his entire existence.

"Sorry bro," Alfred sighed, while Arthur tried to revive poor France from his nearing death from shock.

 _ **~When It All Goes Down the Drain~**_

It was almost half an hour before the Europeans had gotten over their revelation about the sexual drive of Canada.

"Well, that was… unexpected, to say the very least." It was the Englishman who'd finally broken the thick silence that surrounded the group.

" _Oui_." Francis agreed in a quiet voice, for once not using the quiet to make a move on Matthew.

Matthew almost felt sorry for France- after all, the long-haired blonde had been after for Matthew for quite a while now, but Matthew had figured that the Frenchman knew about the Canadian being an Alpha, contrary to what the other countries through of him. It seemed that Francis had taken the news a lot harder than what Matthew had expected. Guilt had taken root inside the pit of the Canadian's stomach. _I'll do something later to make him feel better,_ he resolved. _It'll have to do._

"Sorry, Francis." Matthew offered, to be met with a weak smile.

" _Amérique_ ," France started instead. "Tell us about your last conquest. It will make _moi_ feel better, _peut-être_?"

"Um," Alfred said, at a loss for words. "She was… a really pretty blonde omega." He said finally, quoting a line from a movie that he had watched the other weekend. "The prettiest baby blues." The lines were taken from a man in a bar discussing his last one-night stand, and they were out of character for Alfred, he knew, especially since they came out of his mouth sounding almost like a question.

And of course Arthur noticed. "Those words don't sound like you, love." He said, sounding almost distracted.

Alfred drew a blank, mouth working in the air. "He's just-" Matthew was cut off by America blurting out a sentence that none of the three countries had seen coming.

"Being in love changes everything!"

Matthew's eyes widened. His brother was _not_ ready to confess! He'd barely even confronted his own feelings towards England, and he was _confessing_ already? Everyone seemed frozen for a second before Francis's lips twisted into a creepy smile.

"You fell in _amour_ with her?" He was practically purring, trying to drag the secret out of poor Alfred, who sat there, stunned and frozen.

Matthew realized with an involuntary sigh the European pair had interpreted Alfred's statement as him being in love with the imaginary blue-eyed blonde he'd slept with- not Arthur. Thankful for that small grace, he slipped back into the conversation. "I think we're here," he said, grabbing his brother's arm with an awkward smile as the limo rolled to a stop. "Let's go." He practically kicked the door open, hitting the poor chauffeur in the process. "Come on, Al." He shoved the paralyzed American out of the door, smiling broadly at Francis and Arthur. "Bye! See you guys tomorrow, eh?"

And with that, the North American brothers were off, getting into the hotel as quickly as possible, attempting to leave the europeans as far behind as humanely feasible, dragging their luggage behind them in a feverish frenzy.

It wasn't until the twins reached their hotel room that they both let out a collective breath of relief, America collapsing onto his bed.

"That was close," Matthew sighed, slumping into his chair.

"I was terrified." The Canadian was once again surprised by Alfred's behavior. It wasn't usual for the 'hero' to admit an unmanly emotion like fear, after all.

"It's okay," Matt reassured his twin. "They think you fell in love with that girl. I'm one-hundred percent sure they didn't realize that you like Arth-"

"No, not that."

Canada looked up at his brother quizzically. "What?"

"I was more scared about… about… _that_." Alfred's voice had faded in what seemed like shame.

"Oh." Matthew could say nothing more.

"Thank god they didn't find out." Alfred sat up, dragging a hand down his face and knocking his glasses askew. "Nobody can know that I'm an omega."

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 **Hey guys! Hope you enjoyed that! Please favorite, follow, and LEAVE REVIEWS! I planned out the entire story and wrote the next 1 1/2 chapters, but if the story doesn't get much interest, I might take it down, due to my limited time. :( So please review and tell me what you think! Feel free to tell me about all of my mistakes, in writing and characterization alike. Most of my knowledge comes from wikis and fanfictions, being a new Hetalia fan, so I'm open to criticism in order to get better at writing these fics. :)**

 **Feel free to PM me as well!**

 **Hopefully, I'll be updating anywhere from now to two weeks later, so please follow!**

 **Thanks guys,**

 **~LeaOotori**


	2. Roomies For A Night

**Hey guys! I'm back with another chapter! I've decided to continue this story and I'm already super duper excited! A little update for you guys- I've finished writing chapter three already and I'm almost through with chapter four, too! I've planned this story to be nine chapters, but there is a chance that the events that I've planned will stretch out more than I expected and it might end up being in the 10-15 range... I don't think it'll get any longer than that, though.**

 **I'm planning to update every Saturday from now on, but I'm not sure if I'll be able to carry that out every single time. If you guys ever wonder if I'm going to update, don't be afraid to shoot me a message. :) I'll definitely let you know the progress of the chapter and when it might come out!**

 **On another note, I would like to thank everyone who reviewed, faved, and followed! Love you all! NOTE~~ It's been brought to my attention that I had a few typos in the last chapter that included called Alfred Albert instead- I'd like to clarify that this was a small mistake because of a find and replace system that I used to edit my chapter in a hurry and that it's been fixed!**

 **Thanks so much for your support and love guys~~~~~ XD**

 **See you at the bottom!**

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Despite the slip-up earlier in the afternoon, the North American brothers felt as though everything was relatively stable by the evening. The incidents in the limo and airport had been blotted out and forgotten, leaving time for Alfred and Matthew enjoy themselves until the World Morning the next morning.

"What do you want to watch?" Matthew asked his brother lazily, flipping through Chinese channels as he yawned.

"Is there football?"

Matthew looked at Alfred, looking partially disappointed. "Is a music channel okay?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever." The American was turning an odd shade of pink, and there was a layer of sweat on his pale skin as he fanned himself. "Boy, it's _hot_ in here!"

"Maybe because you're wearing so many layers," Matthew pointed out. "Why don't you go change into your pajamas?

The American took off at his brother's suggestion, fishing out a pair of pajamas before slipping into the bathroom. Meanwhile, Canada watched the music channel half-heartedly as critics kept on interrupting the music that he couldn't understand either way.

It was some kind of Classical Chinese music, he was sure, but he couldn't help but feel bored when he found himself not understanding a word or even being able to properly hear it. He was about ready to switch off the TV when Alfred came bounding out of the bathroom, shirtless and torso dripping wet.

"Al… did you slip into the tub again?" Matt surveyed his brother's appearance tiredly, wondering what he'd have to scold him for now.

"Nah bro, not this time," America laughed, drying off his hair and wiping down his glasses with the hand towel he'd draped around his shoulders before tossing his pajama top onto the bed. Matthew noticed with a raised eyebrow that Alfred was wearing the matching bottoms (a fitting Captain America print). "It's just so freaking _warm._ "

The Canadian's Mom-Friend meter spiked as he sprang off the bed despite his exhaustion, pressing his palm against Al's forehead and neck and ears in rapid succession. "Are you okay?" He asked. "You're really hot!"

"I know," was Alfred's response, coupled with a lazy wink, which he got smacked for.

"Do you need medicine? Are you sick?" Matthew was spitting out questions like cannonballs now, checking Alfred for nonexistent symptoms.

"Dude, I'm fine!" Alfred laughed, shooing his brother away. "I'm bored, let's _do_ something!"

"This isn't time to _whine_ , Al! What if you're sick?" Matthew began to spurt a list of horrible things that his twin could've come down with in his panic before the said twin grabbed his shoulders and looked him in the eye.

"Mattie. I'm fine." Alfred stressed each word, drilling it into the Canadian's head. "If I feel bad, I'll tell you, dude. Don't worry 'bout it." The words weren't one-hundred percent true, but it was enough to get the violet-eyed twin to quiet down and sit on his own bed across from his brother.

"You sure?" Matt sighed, defeated.

"Yeah, man! Ooh, let's play a game!" Alfred yelled like a kid, sprawling out on the bed as he kicked his legs up in the air like a little girl. "How about… truth or dare?"

Matthew sighed. "You're really taking on a feminine side today," he said quietly, but his brother didn't seem to hear. "Eh, I guess…sure, let's play."

"Great! Truth or dare, Mattie?"

"Um… truth, I guess." Matthew didn't feel like putting in his all at the moment, feeling exhausted in all honesty, but he didn't feel like seeing Alfred disappointed either. After all, the pair didn't get to spend as much time together as they liked, so this was a favorable situation.

"Aw," The American poured, placing his chin in his hands as he thought. "You're no fun!" After mulling over Matt's truth for a second, he seemed to come to a conclusion. "Say, Mattie, I'm a bit curious since the French Fry asked you- _have_ you slept with an omega recently?" It wasn't a question that Alfred would bring up with anyone but his twin, and even with him, he asked it in a quiet manner, as if it was a secret to be hidden.

Which, for quite a few people (not counting a certain Frenchman), it really was. "Uh," Matthew started nervously, wondering if he _really_ had to tell the truth. "Well, uh… Seychelles and I… we…"

Matthew could've sworn that Alfred's eyes bulged out of his head. "WHAT?" The American scrambled up, half dragging the covers off the bed. "SEYCHELLES AND YOU?"

"Yeah," Matt laughed nervously with a shrug, "it wasn't like… _serious…_ but yeah, she's the only one."

Alfred sat back on his heels. "And you didn't _tell_ me?"

"It just never came up," The Canadian argued defensively. "I'm sorry,"

"It's cool," Alfred got off the bed, running his fingers through his still-wet-hair. "You don't have to tell me _everything_ I guess,"

Matthew managed a weak smile and was about to apologize again when there was a thumping on the door. "Who could it be? At this time?" Canada's eyes sought out the clock.

"Well, let the hero go see, then." And with that, America was off to _heroically_ open the door.

 _ **~When It All Goes Down The Drain~**_

 _A little while earlier…_

"Get your _bloody_ hands _off of me,_ you bloody _frog!_ " Poor, drunk Arthur was being chased around by touchy, drunk Francis, and it was quite the usual chase until the Frenchman knocked Arthur into an expensive vase, sending it shattering on the floor. Arthur, drunk as he was, automatically started cursing like a pirate, ready to go at Francis and maybe knock some sense into him, but his tipsy senses were no match for France's as Great Britain found himself twisted among Francis's sheets as the Frenchman passed out on top of him, muttering something in his mother tongue.

"Francis you _bloody_ bastard- get _off_ of me, you _idiot!_ " No matter what he said, however, France had slipped off into an uninterruptible sleep, and there was nothing that Arthur could do about it, whether he was drunk or not. After a long, hard workout, the British man was able to slip out from underneath the Frenchman, successfully making it across the room to his own bed.

It was not five minutes since he closed his eyes when he felt hands on his chest, pushing him down. "What the-" Arthur sat up a mid-scream, to find France drowsily trying to straddle him again. "That's it," the green-eyed man declared, batting Francis's hands away.

They were either going to get kicked out for loud screaming or Arthur was going to get raped. Either way, rooming with Francis was _definitely_ not an option for the Englishman. With limited stumbling, he managed to grab his only suitcase and almost fell out the door, forgetting his keycard inside.

It was after he left the hotel building that his drunken self realized he had nowhere to go. The cold air was like a slap of reality in his face as he thought of possible places he could stay the night. He didn't have any money on him at the moment, so there was no motel or hotel available for him, and he didn't know anyone here but the other countries. That being said, he didn't know what hotels they were staying in, except… Matthew and Alfred. He looked across the street, where the North American brothers were staying the night, and wondered if it was really worth it.

After all, it'd be mighty awkward to room with the American whom he'd had a massive crush on for so _damn_ long. The bloody idiot didn't even realize it, to Arthur's advantage, but whenever the Englishman was around the hamburger-addict, he seemed to become meaner and harsher in order to distance himself from the blue-eyed living-firework.

Sometimes he felt bad about it, but he knew it was for the good of his own heart. He didn't want to face heartbreak, after all.

Or Alfred's taunting.

The realization that Matthew was an Alpha also made him uncomfortable to the point that he wasn't sure whether he could take staying in the twins' room- not that an Alpha bothered him (Arthur _was_ an Alpha, after all)- just the fact that the soft-spoken Canadian happened to be one. _Canada. Of all people._

Arthur seriously considered sleeping on the bench on the sidewalk, but decided against it for his own health. _Fine,_ he thought. _If they'll have me… I'll go over. No point in not asking._

And with that, England took off.

When the brothers' door finally swung open, England was expecting a sleepy looking Matthew or maybe even Alfred, gorging himself on a poor imitation of a taco.

He had not expected to see the American blonde standing in the doorway, half dripping wet and looking _bloody_ sexy. For whatever reason, Alfred was shirtless, wearing simply atrocious Captain America pajama bottoms and a hand towel around his neck. His bangs were wet and stuck to his face as a thin sheen of moisture covered his chiseled abs, his face completely opposite to his physique, showing off an innocent and surprised expression that one would expect from a two year old, despite his equally handsome facial features. Arthur was painfully aware of the heat rising up to his face as he tried to swallow, his torrid throat making it more difficult all the while.

"Artie!" The blue-eyed boy seemed surprised as he looked England up and down. "What're you doing here, dude?"

England was ready to sleep on that bench.

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 **So... how do you guys feel about this? Any predictions? The chapter will likely be up either next Saturday morning or afternoon... see you guys then, and please message me for news about the process if you're interested!**

 **Love and sparkles and rainbow unicorn magic and a little bit of emo eyeliner because I'm in a weird mood today-**

 **~Lea**


	3. Heated

**Hello guys~~~ I'm back for a third chapter! So far, the story has only really been build-up and subplots, but now the real plot is going to get started. :D I apologize for all the stuff I'll be putting my Alfred-Baby through... I REALLY DO LOVE YOU! 3 3**

 **I really enjoyed writing this chapter, though I did miss a certain Frenchie... but no worries! France will be back and better than ever in chapter four, so don't miss him too much! :) Thanks for all the support, guys!**

 **SEE YOU AT THE BOTTOM! :D**

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Arthur wasn't aware that he'd been wordlessly staring and ignoring the younger nation's bewildered question until Matthew sidled up beside Alfred in the doorstep, brows drawn in concern. "Arthur," Matthew began in a voice that the Englishman strained to hear. "What happened? Why are you here? Are you okay?"

Glad for an excuse to look away from the American, Britain swallowed. "I- _hic_ -I left my room because Francis wouldn't get his _bloody-ass,_ grubby fingers off of me."

"Oh, come inside," Matthew sighed, grabbing Arthur's wrist and pulling him in. "Are you drunk?"

"What makes you- _hic_ \- think _that_ you _bloody_ twat?" Arthur almost dropped his suitcase, swooning slightly to the left before being pulled upright by someone. He somehow doubted that it was so much the effect of the alcohol (he usually never got drunk so easily, and it was especially odd since he was pretty much sober when he had been standing out in the street) and more of the goddamn _sexy_ Alfred F. Jones. Where did he _get_ those abs? His diet consisted of heart-attack inducing fat packets! His hobby was playing _video games_! How on _Earth_ -

" _Arthur_!" Matthew said, saying his name as if for the umpteenth time. "Do you wanna stay the night?"

England nodded, finally comprehending the statement as his mind whirled in circles, eyes looking at everything but Alfred. Matthew was already dragging him to the bed, however, pushing him in fully clothed before pulling off his shoes. Arthur had a vague sense of his orientation before he felt something settle over him (a cloud? A fur rug? Perhaps a comforter of unicorn hair…) and words turned to mutterings that sounded vaguely like a foreign language. He squinted into the light that was barely-there, eyes finding Alfred like he was magnetic. _Heh, if Alfred was a magnet, he would be a positive magnet and I would be the negative one._ Arthur thought. _Opposites attract! And then we'd go to magnet town and have a bunch of neutrally charged babies and…damn… there's the frog at our baby shower… what kind of cake would we have on our first… anniv…er...sary…_

The next thing Arthur knew, he was out like a light.

"Is he okay?" Alfred asked, looking worried and embarrassed as he rushed to pull on his pajama top. "If I had known that he would show up-"

"Don't worry about it Al," Matthew reassured. "He's dead out. He probably won't remember a thing if it comes down to it."

"Are you sure?" Alfred asked, sounding nervous all of a sudden.

"Yeah, and even if he does, his memory will be blurry as hell." The Canadian shook his head. "He's _past_ drunk."

Alfred nodded slowly. "So we're sleeping on the same bed then?"

"I guess so," Matthew shrugged. "Unless you want me to sleep over there."

"No, it's okay," America grinned. "Wanna keep playing?"

"We have to sleep early," Matthew replied apologetically, exhausted from the tolling day. "The meeting is really early tomorrow."

Alfred pouted. "Aw, fine," he sagged in defeat, and only because England was in the room. Matthew knew full well that if the Englishmen had been absent, the American would have badgered poor Matthew about games for at least a few more hours.

The twins both clambered into bed wordlessly, shutting off the lights and the still-blaring television. "Goodnight," Matthew said, hugging his pillow close.

"Goodnight!" Alfred exclaimed in return, making it sound more like a greeting than a kind-of parting.

And with that, the pair drifted into a long, satisfying sleep.

 _ **~When It All Goes The Drain~**_

The next morning, sun rays bounced across the sheets of Arthur's bed like little ballerinas, all happy and twirling and and so _goddamn bright_. He scrunched his eyes closed, hoping that the headache pounding at the backs of his eyes was just a vividly painful dream and not a reality that he'd have to live with for the rest of the day.

 _Kill me_ … he thought, burying his head into a pillow as he moved his leg under the comforter.

His suit pants-wearing leg.

The Englishman sat up with a start, taking in his fully dressed form and he unfamiliar hotel room and the absence of Francis and the very obvious presence of two other blondes on the other bed next to him.

 _Goddammit_ _Arthur!_ He ran his fingers through his hair. His head was pulsing, as though someone was ramming a hammer into it continuously. With a groan, he takes his fingers over his temples, trying to organize his harried thoughts. _How did I end up here?_

The one question brought back a plethora of flashing, incoherent, and seemingly unconnected images, before they all started to slowly fit together. _I left the hotel room,_ he recalled slowly, though he could not remember exactly why. _And I suppose I came here… this is really the only place I had to go, so I suppose I was sober enough to think of it?_ He struggled to get up from the bed, noting that it seemed to be that his suitcase had been pushed up against the wall with the army of bags that looked just like this. _I must've brought it over here then, so they let me in willingly._ Arthur looked over guiltily at the twins on the bed. _They're sleeping like that because of me,_ he realized with a start. The Englishman suddenly felt intrusive. _I'm such a bloody bad person,_ he grumbled under his breath, all but limping to the fridge, suddenly desperate for a glass of water.

 _I'm screwed._

 _ **~When It All Goes Down The Drain~**_

Twenty minutes later, Arthur had had a few pills he carried in his pocket as they helped with his frequent hangover headaches. He had grabbed his bag from the wall, and he sat on the bed now, writing a quick note to the brothers as his entire head and jaw continued to throb.

 _Alfred and Matthew,_

 _I apologize for barging into your hotel room and am sincerely sorry for any trouble or inconvenience I may have caused. I am indebted to you and would like to thank you for taking care of me when I was in such a state._

 _Thank you,_

 _Arthur Kirkland_

The note was awfully formal and detached- just the way that Arthur liked it. He left the note on the table beside the brothers' bed, before pulling his suitcase out behind him, leaving before either of the sleeping blonde's could catch his departure.

As Arthur exited the hotel, however, he was slightly upset that he hadn't stayed long enough to be able to see Alfred's sleeping face close up.

 _I bet his face is all flushed and pink_ , the British man mused. _Nantucket is probably sticking up like an antenna at this point._ This thought was coupled with the sudden urge to see the American's bed head; a rather entertaining affair.

 _No, Arthur! Stop!_ His inner voice demanded. _Don't think about him!_ It was all the man could do to keep from screaming as he made his way into the elevator of his own hotel. _He's a bad idea._ Arthur let his head hit the back wall of the elevator as he tilted it up to stare at the mirrored ceiling.

His own emerald eyes reflected back at him, filled with the pain of his headache, the urge to go back and see Alfred, and the awful sensation of longing, regret, and cracking self-control.

 _I'm a mess,_ Britain thought as the elevator came to a stop on his floor. _A total mess._ He reached his hotel room to remember that he didn't have his key card, so hoping for the best, he knocked on the door tentatively.

" _Angleterre!_ " Francis practically yelled, throwing open the door with the ferociousness of a prowling animal and the expression of a drama artist, "You made me worried! You left last night, _amor_!" The Frenchman rambled on and on, shoving Arthur into the room. "No time, _ma chérie_ , we're already _trés tard_ for the meeting! Chop, chop! Wash your face, and we have to leave, _mon chou._ "

Arthur could barely comprehend what France was saying, and as a result, the largely not-hungover frog had to physically guide him through the actions, all while mumbling about what England would do if he didn't have the French man to guide him.

But as Francis repeated dunked England's head in water to try to wake him up, Arthur just seemed to start to remember exactly why he had left this room the night before.

 _ **~When It All Goes Down The Drain~**_

"Al…" the Canadian twins voice cracked through the crisp morning air like a whip. "What time is it?"

"Time to get a watch…" the American grumbled back, stuffing his head as deep into the pillow as it would go.

"Al."

"Fine." Alfred rolled over just enough to be able to squint at the clock with one eye. "It's either six-something or eight-something," he said finally. "I can't see very much without Texas, but Artie is gone."

With a groan, Matthew finally got up, turning his eyes to the clock as he put on his own glasses. "Did he leave before we woke up or some-" A second passed as the violet-eyed brother stared at the clock in utter shock. "ALFRED!" Matthew was up in seconds, kicking up the covers and pulling off socks and his shirt and searching through his suitcase.

"Whaaat?" The hamburger enthusiast replied lazily, not really bothered by his twin's panic.

"We slept in!" Canada ran into the bathroom, brushing his hair with one hand as he brushing his teeth with the other. But the time he came back, completely dressed with a Chinese breakfast stuffed in his mouth, America hadn't even moved in bed.

"The meeting started five minutes ago," Matt explained to his brother hurriedly. "It'll take ten minutes at least to get there. Are you coming?"

"But I'm so… warm…" Alfred mumbled, turning in bed. "And everything is moving like we're… underwater… haha…"

The Canadian boy's eyebrows knit together as he sat down on the bed with a _plop_. "Al, are you okay?"

"Yeah…"

Unconvinced, Matthew moved closer and pressed a palm to Alfred's forehead. He frowned. He wasn't particularly warm, just normal. He cocked his head, about to ask Al another question, when he realized it. "Al… Alfred…" he gasped quietly, surprise lacing his tone. "Did you-"

"Did I what?" Alfred turned over, more awake now. And his awakeness proved it to Matthew- er, proved his suspicions to Matthew's nose.

"You didn't take your pills last night, did you?"

Alfred's mouth fell open as he remembered the heat-prevention pills that he was scheduled to take every day in order to, well, prevent his heats. In the entire spectacle concerning Arthur, Alfred had forgotten.

Usually when Al forgot, it wasn't a big deal- he could stay home and take suppression pills- but now was not a time to stay home, was it? He had an important role in today's meeting, and without him, it would not go on.

There was the hope that his heat was a hoax, but that hope was false. He had the symptoms and he had forgotten to take a pill, not to mention the scent that had laced the air that Matthew now caught. _It's an omega!_ The scent yelled.

The brothers made eye contact, and at the moment, the same thought was mirrored in both of their minds.

 _Shit._

* * *

 **Hello again! What do you guys think? I hope you liked it!**

 **Since I've been writing the chapters ahead of time, I have a contest for you guys!**

 **Every single chapter (excluding the last one) I will pick ONE random reviewer to get a sneak peak of the next chapter! This sneak peak will go out some time during the week after I update! So please go ahead and review for a chance at this sneak peak. :)**

 **I thought it would be nice to include that I wrote this chapter while listening to _Sparks Fly_ by Taylor Swift, hence why England's monologue in the elevator kinda had that theme to it. In addition, I'd like to tell you guys that I'm currently writing my second Hetalia fanfic, another USUK fanfic, but this one is a one-shot (I think) song-fic with a little bit more angst in it, haha! **

**Please tell me if that's something you would like to read and if there's anything else that you'd like to see from me. :) Thanks guys!**

 **See you next week!**

 **~Lea Ootori**


	4. Out In The Open

**GUYYYSSSS I'M SO SORRYYYYY! I had the chapter last Saturday, but I didn't get a chance to post it! However, I finally got it out! I apologize if you guys are disappointed! However, if we are to look on the bright side of things, I got ahead with the writing part of it all and I finished writing chapter 5 and began writing chapter 6. I'm going to be hella busy until May-ish, however, so please don't pressure me to update! I'm trying my hardest to keep up with my virtual and IRL life at the same time!**

 **That being said, the random reviewer who won a sneak peak of the chapter was Stuckinapornstar69, so congratulations!  
**

 **I hope you enjoy reading the chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!**

 **See you at the bottom!**

* * *

"Alfred!" Matthew mumbled, pacing the room anxiously as he frantically readjusted his glasses continuously, trying desperately to organize his thoughts. " _How_ are you in a heat if you're on _pills_?"

The American was quiet for a moment, looking almost apologetic as he swayed. His breathing was labored as he finally forced the words to leave his mouth. "I… might've forgotten to take them…"

"Al!" Matthew was beyond frustrated. He checked the clock in his anger, cursing under his breath. "I'm already late! Stay here! Lock the doors and windows- don't you _dare_ open a single one! Take some meds and sleep or something, alright? I'll tell them you're sick and keep them away. I'll come back during the lunch break- and don't youmove a muscle until I do!" The Canadian ranted away loudly, an angry expression gracing his face- one that was quite rare to be see on him. He finally looked to Alfred with an expression of concern. "You _are_ okay, right?"

"I… yeah, man… I'm fine… I'm the hero…" America sounded awfully drunk, squinting at his brother as he attempted to sound awake.

"Right. Do you want me to stay?" Matthew brushed back his hair, ready to set down his files and stay behind if his brother needed him.

"No… I'm fine… go make me proud, Mattie…" and with that, the blue-eyed blonde collapsed back into the bed, mumbling something about the Star Trek remake.

With a quiet sigh, Matthew took off, leaving his brother in a locked room and hoping with all his heart that he would stay put and be fine until the Canadian could escape back.

But of course, Alfred had always a little bit of a wild card.

Just a little bit.

 _ **~When It All Goes Down The Drain~**_

Alfred didn't know how long it took for him to get out of bed in one piece. His head seemed to be floating in the clouds, light and fluffy and soft and the clouds were _oh-so-pink_ and- America felt absolutely delusional.

Not to mention the fact that he desperately wanted to go find the nearest Alpha and do whatever it took to satisfy himself of the animalistic urges that continued to gather in the pit of his stomach.

 _Alpha! Find an Alpha!_ His mind begged him. _An Alpha!_ Alfred grit his teeth. _I will get up,_ he told himself. _I will get dressed and mask my scent and I will go to the meeting and survive._ He finally got up with shaking legs, tired from the sudden onslaught of the heat after months and months of indefinite delay as he stayed on the pills.

 _I think all the heats I skipped hit me at once,_ Alfred realized with an inward groan. He began to pull off his shirt clumsily, trying to make his breathing sound somewhat even instead of panting.

Everything in his body was throbbing with hidden energy, in a way that almost physically _hurt._ He felt like there were springs coiled up in all his muscles, making them stiff and tingly, all at the same time. _Get to the bathroom,_ he pushed himself. _I'm the hero! I'm America! I can make it there!_

And so he did, a while later. In between receiving dramatic and worried texts from a certain Canadian, Alfred set to work, hoping that he'd be able to get to the meeting before the lunch break.

It was slow work, but it was work all the same. _Alpha!_ His mind cried, but America kept as focused as he could get. _I'm not letting some stupid biological mishap from thousands of years stop me from representing my country!_ He thought heroically. _That wouldn't make me a hero!_

And so, Alfred got dressed, taking great care to go through the bag of cosmetics he'd left in the bathroom the night before to find a bottle of omega scent concealer- a tool that had saved his life many times before. Finally, he stood in front of the mirror, staring at his horribly dilated eyes as he pondered how he could fix them. _Can I?_ He stared, swayed as he did. _I smell an Alpha…_ his nose picked up someone's scent in the hallway, but it didn't seem to be all that attractive to Alfred, therefore making it easier from him to stay sane.

 _I'll just roll with the eyes,_ America thought, mentally shrugging. _Just don't don't make eye contact. How hard can it be?_

Apparently a lot harder than he thought.

 _ **~When It All Goes Down The Drain~**_

When Alfred burst into the meeting hall, cloaked in a thick cloud of Axe-smelling cologne and walking like a drunk man, the others should've been ready to write it off as common America behavior after a night out drinking and partying.

However, there were some things that threw the nations off.

To begin with, they'd been told by Matthew that Alfred had come down with something and didn't have energy to do much but sleep.

In addition to this odd fact, there was also the notion that Alfred looked so damn _bangable_ all of a sudden.

None of the countries could admit that America wasn't hot, hell no, they _all_ agreed that he was a collection of admirable features, yes- but everyone had a type. France liked the quiet ones, Germany liked brunettes… not everyone was into the blonde, blue-eyed jock type.

But all of a sudden, all the alphas in the room (which was a majority of the countries) suddenly felt a massive attraction towards the drunk-looking blonde. His skin was flushed _just_ the right shade, and his eyes were reflecting the perfect hue of blue, while his smile and hair and literally _everything_ about his appearance was suddenly perfect for him.

"проклятие*," Ivan breathed suddenly, wide smile disappearing from his face for once.

"H-hey!" Alfred stuttered out. "I'm… late?" Squeezing out the words took almost all of the effort in his body as he fought not to be overpowered by the scents of the Alphas lacing the air like an alluring drug just pulling him in. _Damnit_ , he thought. One of his suitcase had gotten switched out (probably in the airport), and the pills that made him immune to the Alpha's scents had been in his bag. He could've sworn he'd brought the right bags, but it seemed that out of his two, one had been the wrong one.

As a result, he was now here, in a room full of alphas, without a way to resist them.

While in a heat.

 _Just divine._

 _ **~When It All Goes Down The Drain~**_

Francis was beyond surprised. He usually liked the quiet, shy type, but _Amérique_ was standing right in front of him, having almost literally crashed a meeting, the outline of a wrapped hamburger in his pocket, wearing a Star Wars t-shirt and disrupting the calm proceedings of the entire meeting in a way that France would usually _never_ find attractive- but yet, the romantic blonde couldn't help but find it all endearing and adorable and _putain de merde_ Alfred's eyes were _beau_.

Germany was busy staring down at the ditsy, drunk-looking American. How he managed to look completely fine in that _atrociously_ casual attire in a _formal meeting_ was beyond him. No matter how hard he tried, however, Ludwig could not keep himself from tracing the thrumming muscles that moved _oh_ -so perfectly in America's flexing jaw and throat and collarbones, all of which reminded him unnecessarily of a mostly-naked Italy, who seemed to have the same structure of shoulders. As a result, the German's eyes were almost glued to the dips and stretches in the skin, suddenly so perfect that they seemed almost as though they had been etched into stone.

Russia was no stranger to America's beauty, but he had to admit that he couldn't even _find_ a part of America to focus on. He just seemed so _radiant_ and _alive_ all of a sudden that he no longer just seemed like the annoying, loud brat that usually put up a fight with him. Something about Alfred was ticking him off, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

Britain, overall, was almost as big of a mess as Alfred was at the moment. His cheeks flushed as soon as he saw the American walk in, not wanting to recall the images from the night before (but unconsciously making the decision to do it anyways) before he realized there was an odd light he was giving off today that somehow, the Brit couldn't recall ever seeing before.

It was like Al, in himself, was a lightbulb, and he just walked into the room and lit it up all around, and suddenly nobody could take their eyes off of him to start asking the glaring questions that _really_ needed to be asked.

His sudden change of appearance (though nobody could pinpoint exactly why it had happened) seemed to have put the room under a spell, and Arthur was the one most violently affected.

 _Bloody hell!_ His thoughts were whirling as he took in the sudden glow of Alfred's skin and twinkle of his eyes and the was his presence seemed to call to the Brit, _come here! Love me!_

And Arthur almost couldn't resist.

 _ **~When It All Goes Down The Drain~**_

 _A little while earlier…_

"So, _Angleterre_ ," France practically crooned, after dragging Arthur all the way to the meeting spot, "did you and _Amérique_ have fun last night?" He coupled this raunchy statement with a wink.

"Knock it off, you bloody bastard!" England grumbled, taking a long sip of tea from his cup, which he just seemed to carry every waking moment.

"Denial is the first step the acceptance, _mon cher_." France looked particularly evil as he bit into some stereo-typically French breakfast while combing out his carefully brushed hair. "Now tell _moi_. What happened between you two in that _chambre_ last night?"

"Nothing," England grumbled. "Matthew was there."

"Oh! _Pauvre Arthur!_ " France yelled dramatically, slapping a hand to his chest. "You did not have the _sexe_ because of my _Mathieu_!"

Poor Arthur spit out his treasured tea, effectively scorching the delicate plant on the table in front of him. "Have the what?" He yelled angrily, a red blush creeping up how cheeks as he wiped tea from his lips, attempting to look less like an idiot.

"Oh, don't be a _prude, Angleterre_! I know that you have had _sexe_ before, _idiot_." Francis sat back, as though dissatisfied. "Bad, _Angleterre_ , _trés_ bad." He began to shake his head, lips pushed into a practiced duck-pout.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, you damned frog!" Arthur sputtering, angrily dabbing a napkin at his collar which had suffered the brunt of the tea damage. "Alfred and I didn't even talk. We weren't gonna do _anything._ And since when are me and him a thing, anyways? He's just an ally, you twat!"

"Ally, _Angleterre_?" Francis chuckled, leaning in uncomfortably close as his eyes narrowed. "Are you _sure_?"

Arthur just glared in response, deciding that France was not worthy of a response.

"Everyone knows you love _Amérique_ , you know. Except Alfred himself." The blue-eyed man said quietly.

"That's not true!" The Englishman spat, before regaining his composure. "I mean, I don't like him! So how could everyone know?"

"Denial is the first step to acceptance, _mon ami_ ," The long-haired blonde said simply, looking what could be best described as satisfied.

England huffed, vexed at how the conversation was literally going in circles. _This is a waste of my time,_ he thought, making a move to get up before the Frenchman grabbed his sleeve. "Wait, _Angleterre,_ " he called. "Alfred's going to be at the meeting!"

"I _know_ that," Arthur snapped, annoyed, pulling his blazer sleeve away from Francis's spindly fingers. "It's a _world meeting,_ you twat!"

"Do you think I am _stupide_?" France huffed, cheeks puffing like he was a pufferfish.

"Yes," England muttered under his breath.

" _Silencieux_!" Francis lectured. "Your blazer is tea stained! You cannot wear that when meeting your _amor!_ Especially since it's stained with _thé_! Do I need to remind _toi_ of the Boston Tea Party?"

Britain's eyes narrowed. "Are you _trying_ to tick me off?"

"When am I not, _mon cheri?_ " The Frenchman dropped a wink, to which the green-eyed man shoved him away with the rude imitation of a barfing noise. He then started off into the building in which the meeting would be held, leaving Francis in the dust.

" _Mais Angleterre_!" the poor Frenchman yelled after him. " _Ton chemise!"_

"Oh, shut up, you frog!" England yelled back. "My suitcase got switched, alright? I'll change my shirt during the lunch break." And with that, Arthur slipped into the meeting room, locking the door behind him and leaving poor Francis out to wait until one of the countries felt enough pity to open the door.

 _ **~When Everything Goes Down The Drain~**_

 _Present..._

"I thought you said he was sick?" England asked Matthew, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "He doesn't _look_ sick."

"He- he was when I left!" Matthew confessed hurriedly. "What are you doing here?" He hissed to America. "I told you to stay in the hotel!"

"I'm the hero!" America whispered back. "I can't _not_ come to a meeting!"

"Veh~~he looks very pretty to me!" Italy said suddenly. "Almost like a girl!"

Alfred glared at Feliciano, lips stuck out in an angry duck pout. "I don't look like a _girl_!" He whined sounding a little bit too much like one.

"You are not sick, _oui_ ," France mumbled, tapping his lips. " _Mais quelque chose est éteint, non, Mathieu_?" Nobody but Matthew understood the question (or was even sure if it was a question). While a few of them _did_ speak French, Francis was just too good at speaking it fast and in an accent that made it almost impossible for anyone but Matthew to pick it up.

" _Ce n'est rien, Francis._ " Matthew replied quietly, while everyone watched, trying to figure out what they were saying.

" _Tu me caches quelque chose, mon cher?_ "

" _Il n'y a rien à cacher, je vous l'ai dit! Il était malade quand je suis parti, et maintenant il n'est pas! Maintenant, laisse-le aller, Francis._ " Matthew seemed to be in full rant mode, and as a side, seemed angry as well. For someone that no one ever noticed, the countries suddenly felt a bit sad that they'd never welcomed Canada enough to watch a spectacle like this in a World Meeting before.

France was silent for a moment before opening his mouth to respond, but he was interrupted by a pissed-looking England.

"If you're going to argue," he began, voice measured. "Then do it in goddamn _English_ so at least _half_ of us can follow." He took an angry sip of his coffee. "Have your bloody French class somewhere else. Alfred being here affects _everyone_ , so we all deserve to know what you were arguing about."

"Nothing, _mon amour_ ," Francis cooed. " _Matthieu_ just said the same things he'd said before again."

Arthur's dark eyes narrowed again before a red America spoke up. "Stop arguing," he commanded in a quiet tone, ready to faint. "Let's just start the meeting, okay?"

Everyone was a teensy bit surprised at Alfred's sudden interjection, and on top of that, his complete omission of the words 'dude' and 'man' and basic white girl terminology in his outburst.

"Yes, of course," Germany said, voice harried from being silent for so long. "So we were talking about…"

Everyone began to settle down again, sneaking glances at the furious Canada now and then, while others stared at America, wondering what was making him so weird and different today. Others couldn't help but wonder what France was thinking for that thoughtful and analytical expression to be etched into his face so deep, while everyone avoided England's gaze, hoping to escape his wrath.

Throughout it all, Russia just looked at America, unblinking.

No matter what it was that had made Alfred so different today, Ivan would figure it out. That, he vowed.

So throughout the internal drama, poor Al could do nothing but sit there, head bobbing up and down in an effort to not latch on to Arthur next to him. The scent of Alphas in the air was magnetic and perfect and made him feel as though he could curl up right now with any Alpha that was willing and breathe in and store their scent so he'd never, ever, ever forget the tingly feeling it gave him. Every fiber of his body was hypersensitive, and he kept on seeing the grounds and walls around him move like heat waves (pun intended), and the scents lacing the air seemed to push themselves onto him and pile on America like a blanket.

 _So warm. So warm._

Alfred curled his hands into fists in his lap. _Why did I come here again?_ He regretted his decision all of a sudden as he stared at the ceiling, watching it dip and sway and move and _was he underwater? Oh my god I'm gonna die. I feel like I'm gonna die. Oh my god oh my god-_

"America?"

* * *

 **I apologize for the anticlimactic ending of this chapter. Next time, however, the drama is going to pick itself up and take off...**

 **That leaves a question for you guys!**

 **Do you guys think the others will find out about Alfred being an omega? How do you think they'll figure it out?**

 **Leave a review, and I'll choose my favorite review to give the sneak peak of the next chapter!**

 **Thanks for reading,**

 **~Lea**

 **P.S. I'm working on some other USUK fics, so hopefully I'll have at least one of them up before this story is over. Feel free to message me on my progress about the chapters for this story and my other fics! Love you 3**


	5. This Is How You Ruin Lunch

**First of all, I want to apologize! I let all of you down. It's been so long since I updated: I think almost a month or two! I had the raw chapter done, but I didn't have the time to edit it (and believe me, my editing is basically rewriting the entire thing) and I didn't want to put less-than-my-best-work out for you guys! I'm so sorry it took this long to edit it and finish, but here's the next chapter! I hope you enjoy it, and I sincerely apologize for the delay. There's more information on my updates at the A/N below, so please check that out!**

* * *

It was Germany who had spoken, and from the looks of it, Alfred had already been called up multiple times, but just hadn't head his name being yelled across the room in a demanding, German-accented voice, while everyone stared at him.

The wonders of a heat.

 _I wish I could ignore his voice like this every time,_ he thought for a minute. _Minus the headache though, that sucks…_ "Yeah? Do I have to present?" Alfred finally formed a sentence after a long analyzing process.

"Well, yes-" Poor Ludwig began his statement, only to be ushered away from America, who'd finally worked up the strength and balance to get up from his chair and talk about his plans.

"Cool story bro," Alfred called, channeling all the energy and willpower in every single cell in his body. The room began to shrink back as they seemed to sense America going back to normal, but Russia, England, and France were still hot on Al's tail- they were one hundred percent sure there was a secret being hidden from everyone, and all three of them wanted to be the one to reveal it.

However, poor oblivious Alfred had no inkling of this, and instead clambered up the the focus of the room with his files, looking drunk as hell and high as a bird. He proceeded to squinting at his mixed up notes with an insanely tiny font and ended up spending almost an hour reframing the same information in six different ways as he tried to recall what 'code 16' was.

Finally, Germany took pity on the poor American and offered to read his notes for him, to which Alfred half-hearted started a rant about being the hero and not needing help.

Matthew cringed and groaned his way through Alfred's entire presentation, bubbling with frustration and annoyance as his twin managed to screw up for the millionth time on the word 'delegates'. While America wiped his glasses nervously and stared at the sheet of paper between his fingers again, sweating profusely, Canada decided he couldn't take it anymore.

"Germany!" Canada hollered. (Okay, he said it in a talking tone. But to him, it was hollering.) "It's 12:03."

The nations all stared at him as if they'd already forgotten he was there, while France seemed to avoid looking in his general direction, as though reminded of the conversation about Matthew's sexual drive the day before.

"What about it?" England spoke up before Ludwig could even process the statement.

"It's lunch time, is it not?" Matthew asserted, though his voice remained calm and controlled. "Why don't we pick up after?"

"Ve~~~ pasta!" Nobody needed to turn and look to see whose mouth that certain exclamation had come out of.

"Maybe we should take a short break," Japan spoke up, voice almost as soft as Canada's but much louder. "It seems as though everyone here desperately needs it, and we all deserve it, Germany-San."

"Alright," Ludwig sighed, the unofficial leader of the meetings. "An hour."

Within seconds of the dismissal, many countries had already dashed out of the room, setting out to hunt down food. As the numbers in the meeting room dwindled, Alfred tried to make his way back to his seat, gripped the table as he walked to keep from falling over.

He had almost reached his seat successfully when he seemed to trip on some invisible object, falling straight onto a vexed and waiting Matthew. "What were you thinking?" The Canadian hissed, holding up his brother's weight as he tried to restore balance to his jelly-like body.

 _I'm screwed,_ Alfred thought, trying to make his lips form an acceptable answer. While Matthew almost never got mad (America could count the times he had on one hand), when the Canadian country _did_ get pissed off, he was like an erupting volcano, with no end to his passive aggressive, petty, angry, destructive, grudge holding, _awful_ tendencies.

As far as Alfred remembered, the American himself was the only one that had ever succeeded in pissing off the mostly happy and peaceful country. _Goes to show how annoying I can truly be when I try,_ he thought, congratulating himself on a newly discovered achievement as Matthew glared.

"Are you even listening?" He spat, grabbing his brother's arm in one hand and his files in another. "Come with me."

"Where are we going?" Alfred managed to spit out as Matthew dragged him down the halls.

"You covered your scent great," The violet-eyed twin said randomly, choosing to blatantly ignore his brother.

Before Alfred could think about the statement and develop any comprehensive answer, he was plopped into a wooden chair in a highly uninhabited room with round tables and a small bar. The walls were awfully textured and green, Alfred noticed as Matthew took off to a small counter, wallet in hand.

 _Smells like food,_ Alfred thought, looking around and to the Chinese characters on the walls. _And Alphas._ The scent was strong. Alfred could not tell whose it was, but it was strong, and he was not taken.

However, Alfred was fairly sure he could resist it. After being distracted and teased by every single scent in the room during his presentation, he really doubted that any of the scents in this room could really faze him at all.

This thought empowering him, he turned away and tried to breathe as shallowly as possible while waiting for Matthew to return.

"Alfred?" A strong British accent floated across the distant clamor of dishes and pots and pans somewhere in the kitchen as America suddenly looked for something to be occupied with. _Oh, not now. Holy shit, man, please, not now._ He began to get up and pretend to go to the bathroom, legs shaking, when he felt spindly fingers gently grab his arm. "Where're you off to, love?"

Alfred tried to look everywhere but Arthur's eyes, knowing that if he looked into them once, we wouldn't be able to look away. "The bathroom," he whispered, but England didn't seem to hear.

"Are you okay, Alfred?" England continued asking questions, obviously concerned.

"Just had too much to drink, old man. Loosen up!" Alfred managed to chuckle, but it sounded plastic, as if he was reading it off off of a script. But nobody could blame him, of course- he was busy trying not to give into his urges and pull Arthur into the nearest closet.

Arthur visibly bristled at the mild insult, deciding that Alfred was mostly fine. "I see. You didn't seem drunk when I came over."

 _Shit!_ Alfred was beyond panicking now. _Does he remember anything from last night? Specifically my outfit?_ "I-I… drank after you fell asleep?" It sounded like a question, and if England had really wanted to know what was going on, it'd wouldn't've been that hard to figure out.

"Ah, I apologize for that," Arthur said, sitting down at the table. "I almost forgot- I accidentally took your suitcase with me this morning. Would you like to come switch it out later?"

 _I am in deep, deep crap._ Alfred took a shaky breath. _I thought my suitcase got switched out at the airport- but it's with Arthur?_ America was about to respond when a thought struck him. _Has he seen my omega pills yet?_

* * *

Bloody hell, Britain couldn't help himself from guiltily enjoying this conversation to its fullest. Arthur himself kept on spewing any random shit that he could think of while Alfred continued to look like adorable and just goddamn bangable.

 _His hair falls into his eyes just right, and it just seems to glitter like gold, doesn't it?_ Arthur thought as America stuttered out a response to one of England's pointless questions. His cheeks are flushed just the right shade, too. Alfred's eyes darted up for a fraction of a second before he looked away, as if the patriotic nation was too bashful to meet the British man's gaze. _They're so blue,_ Arthur thought, the single snapshot of Al's sky blue eyes frozen in his memory. _Blue like an ocean… or the sky…_

* * *

Arthur was staring at America. Al could just feel it. _What do I say?_ Alfred racked his brain for something that would sound smart, something that would make this invitation to get back his suitcase into a possible outing… while at the same time trying to figure out how to get away from Arthur; because if he didn't, Alfred was almost one hundred percent sure that he would faint from the lack of breathing he was doing.

 _I can't breathe too much!_ America reminded himself. _What if I inhale his scent?_ The blonde nation might not have been the smartest in the world, but he knew enough to realize that for the sake of his pride, breathing any more than he was now would be a disastrous idea.

He was contemplating the foolproof plan of yelling "Look! Aliens!" at the ceiling and bolting at first chance when his life was saved by a slightly overprotective Canadian brother.

"Arthur," Matthew asked, frustration lacing his tone. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought I could join you for lunch, perhaps?" England chuckled, surprised at his own boldness. "Otherwise the stupid frog won't stop bothering me."

"Uh, right, that would be amazing but Alfred and I were going to take this meal back to the room," Matthew gave a timid smile, hoping to ward away the Englishman.

"Oh, I see." Arthur was marginally uncomfortable, getting Matthew's message. _Go away._ "I'll go then, have a good lunch!"

England turned on his heel, ready to leave, but he didn't get to do what he had originally planned- he was stopped by a certain American omega.

* * *

Alfred didn't know why he did it, or where he got the courage from. He was just listening to Matthew try to shoo England away, and the next thing he knew, Alfred was almost begging Arthur to stay.

"Come on, Artie," he had managed to squeeze out. "You can hang with us."

"But Matthew said-"

"Don't mind him, come on, we even got croissants!" Alfred was all of a sudden pulling Arthur into a chair and handing him food, all while Canada watched, vexation slowly growing.

Alfred himself was quite annoyed as well. It was as though he was watching himself from above his body, watching it repeatedly give reasons for England to stay until he relented. Matthew sat down with an annoyed huff, anger radiating through his very being as he pushed mashed potatoes around his plate.

 _Help me,_ Alfred was caught in close proximity of an Alpha with nowhere to go. _Why do I do this to myself?_ He thought, slowly chewing a carrot for much longer than it needed to be chewed. _Why did I even come here? Why did I ask him to sit with us? Why do I do all of these things that endanger one of the few secrets I have?_

"Are you alright, love?"

The honey-smooth voice beside him startled the American out of his trance. Alfred took a quick, deep drag of breath in his surprise, ruining the method of shallow breathing he'd developed.

Suddenly, he was flooded with the intense version of the mild smell he'd been trying not to pick up on for the past ten minutes.

Arthur's scent.

It smelled like rain and tea and something that reminded Alfred of unicorns. It was warm and cozy and cold and fresh and shockingly refreshing all at once.

And it hit Alfred like a brick.

Suddenly, all of his sense were muddled and thick, and he could barely hear or see anything- anything but Arthur, that is. It was like his eyes just honed in on him and tuned out everything else entirely. Suddenly, Arthur's eyes took on a new shade of green and his worried voice was something of a heavenly harp song. "So… pretty…" Alfred managed to giggle as he contemplated reaching for England's collar to yank him closer. _He's already so close to me… just a little bit… more…_

"Alfred? Alfred, are you okay? Answer me!" The voice was worried and strained and had a hint of underwateriness to it, but the British accent lacing it was so goddamn perfect that Alfred could care less what the Brit was saying.

"Al?"

Suddenly, that snapped him out of it. His brother's voice cut through the haze like a knife through butter, and everything came back with terrifying quality, all the colors and people and sounds flooding him at once.

But Arthur's eyes were still glued to the American, and poor Al couldn't look away. He fought his urge to get closer until he couldn't get any closer, but with every passing millisecond, it was becoming a bigger and bigger desire that seemed to overtake him like he was possessed. _I need to get away! I need to get away!_

Alfred didn't need any more prompting than that. He took one last look at Arthur, then Matthew.

And then he bolted.

* * *

 **I hope that the chapter was worth it! Now, I'm going to be REALLY REALLY busy for the next month or two, so you probably can't expect an update until the end or middle of May, really. But if you want, you can PM me and I can maybe give a little spoiler or two in order to satisfy your questions. :)**

 **Thanks, again, and sorry! Love you guys!**

 **~Lea**


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